“The Itch,” a new Don DeLillo story in The New Yorker

Biblioklept

There’s a new DeLillo story in The New Yorker. It’s called “The Itch” and I started itching terribly about halfway through. First three sections (and yeah, the story starts with “But”):

But nobody showed up, so he sat awhile looking at the wall. It was one of those Saturdays that feel like Sunday. He didn’t know how to explain this. It happened intermittently, more often in the warmer months, and it was probably normal, although he’d never discussed it with anyone.

After the divorce he felt an odd numbness, mental and physical. He looked in the mirror, studying the face that looked back. At night he kept to his half of the bed with his back to the other half. Over time a life slithered out. He talked to people, took long walks. He bought a pair of shoes but only after testing them rigorously, both shoes, not…

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Published by: chris jensen

Who am i? i am nothing! Started in nothing! Ending in nothing! Truly free, on a reclusive trip.. Floating free.... A gift from those whom sent me! Who am i? Why simply. i am me!

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